


got my eyes on you

by abovetheruins



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Shyan Week 2019, Shyan Writing Events, Teasing, heart eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 00:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17591564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: Shane already has an arsenal of methods to make Ryan squirm at his disposal – his skepticism, his composure in the midst of pants-shittingly terrifying locations, his preoccupation with talking foodstuffs – not to mention all of the other thousand things, the ones Ryan had tried so hard to ignore – Shane’s stupid floppy hair and sleep-hoarse morning voice and long ass giraffe limbs that had no right being as attractive as Ryan found them – and now there’sthis, the soft, affectionate glaze in Shane’s eyes anytime he looks at Ryan, the barely-there curl of his lips, like he can’t help but smile when he catches sight of his co-host, like he’s genuinely just that fucking happy to see Ryan, to spend time with him, to kiss him, now that he’s allowed to.





	got my eyes on you

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'heart eyes' prompt for Day 2 of Shyan Week. Hope you guys like fluff ;D
> 
> Also, [some](https://theawfuledges.tumblr.com/post/181577756644/softilnyckyj-as-soon-as-ryan-looked-at-shane-he) [inspiration](https://theawfuledges.tumblr.com/post/181132583491/im-not-even-a-fan-of-buzzfeed-unsolved-but-the) for your viewing pleasure.

When he and Shane had finally gotten their shit together and stopped tiptoeing around their feelings for each other, Ryan had been… well, relieved. Not just that they’d both finally gotten a clue, but that all of the contrite, longing bullshit – the lingering stares, the desire to show off for Shane, to _impress_ him, the fucking _ache_ when he woke up and saw Shane’s sleepy eyes and messy hair in the hotel bed next to his – was over. There was nothing worse than contrite, longing bullshit. Nothing.

But oh, Ryan had been wrong. So very wrong.

This is a thousand times worse. This, right here, is utter torture.

_This_ being his co-host, his best bud, his – fuck – his _boyfriend_ , who, once freed from the shackles of propriety and not-actually-unrequited love, apparently lost all sense of shame.

“Put those things away, Madej!” T.J. barks from behind the camera. “Jesus, you two are impossible now.”

“Why are you lumping me in with him?” Ryan squawks, fingers faltering against his phone screen and accidentally exiting out of the question he’d just been trying to answer. _Trying_ , because Shane kept fucking him over and making him lose his train of thought by doing the _thing_.

“We’re a pair now, Ry guy,” Shane chirps, amusement thick in his voice. He’s probably got that stupid feline smirk of his plastered across his face, but Ryan refuses to look and check for himself. He can’t risk being distracted by the _thing_. “It’s all official and everything.”

Ryan wants to offer a snarky comeback, and he opens his mouth to try, but he can’t deny the rush of warmth to his chest at the reminder that this – them, together – is a thing now. They haven’t been blatant about it but they’re not exactly falling over themselves to keep it a secret either, and it’s nice, fucking great, actually, to have even one of their coworkers call them out on it so casually.

“Let’s just get through this last question, gentlemen, shall we?” T.J. asks, his exasperation tempered by the twitch of his lips. “Then you can moon over each other in peace.”

“I haven’t mooned over this Sasquatch a day in my life,” Ryan argues, though there’s no heat in his voice. Even he knows that’s a load of shit.

“There’s a few seasons’ worth of footage that would disagree with you there, Bergara,” Shane counters, and isn’t that rich, coming from the guy who can’t stop _staring_ at him?

Because that’s exactly what Shane does – has been doing, continues doing – ever since Ryan shored up the courage to grab the big lug’s collar and yank him down into a clumsy and imperfect (but perfectly them) kiss. He just looks. At Ryan. A lot.

And it’s not his usual ‘you’re an idiot but I’ll humor you’ stare. It’s… _more_ , full of all those gooey, mushy, kind of gross Feelings (with a capital fucking F) that Ryan has spent months, maybe even years, beating back with a stick every time they bubbled a little too closely to the surface.

Shane stares at him like there’s nothing else he’d rather look at, a hopelessly endeared, slightly exasperated, and abundantly _fond_ look on his face that, honestly? Ryan cannot fucking handle. He can handle Shane’s eyes even less, the way they grow all soft and lidded and dark, like he’s imagining any number of things, from drawing Ryan into a kiss or pushing him down onto the nearest available surface and wrecking him completely.

… Okay, maybe Ryan’s projecting a bit there. Either way, it’s distracting, it’s disruptive, and it’s about as subtle as a brick to the face.

And it’s pretty fucking unfair, too. Shane already has an arsenal of methods to make Ryan squirm at his disposal – his skepticism, his composure in the midst of pants-shittingly terrifying locations, his preoccupation with talking foodstuffs – not to mention all of the other thousand things, the ones Ryan had tried so hard to ignore – Shane’s stupid floppy hair and sleep-hoarse morning voice and long ass giraffe limbs that had no right being as attractive as Ryan found them – and now there’s _this_ , the soft, affectionate glaze in Shane’s eyes anytime he looks at Ryan, the barely-there curl of his lips, like he can’t help but smile when he catches sight of his co-host, like he’s genuinely just that fucking happy to see Ryan, to spend time with him, to kiss him, now that he’s allowed to.

And Ryan… well, Ryan’s at the end of his rope, is the thing. He can only take so much of that look on Shane’s face before he loses it and does something drastic, like back Shane into a wall and kiss that sweet, dopey expression straight off his face, regardless of where they are and whose around to see him do it.

So he does the only thing he can think of.

He stares back.

He pushes his last lingering doubts and fears – that he’s gonna screw this up, that they’re both getting in way over their head, that there’s no way this can last – into the back of his mind and he just. Looks. Unselfconsciously, unafraid, and unconcerned for the people around them, coworkers and strangers alike milling around the bar and calling for shots. It helps that he’d already downed a few himself, leaving him loose-limbed and happy, and more inclined to allow the truth of his feelings to show on his face rather than remain tucked away inside the safety of his chest.

He can practically _feel_ the affection sweeping over his face, the fondness and delight curling his lips, the desire filling up his eyes, turning them a rich, dark brown. If he were to glance at the mirror behind the bar, he knows exactly what he’d see – blatant, open invitation plastered across his face, along with a healthy dose of admiration and a dollop of exasperated affection to boot.

Shane’s just turning back from a conversation with the bartender, his eyes curled in half-mooned delight as the woman passes him two glasses of frothy, amber liquid, when he catches sight of Ryan’s face and just… stops.

Ryan can feel his pulse pounding in his throat, because there’s a difference between shooting Shane moony-eyed looks when his back is turned or when they’re tangled together in bed and doing it here, out in the open where anybody can see, can see and know exactly how far gone he is over this dude, and how happy he happens to be about that fact.

Because he is. Shane’s insufferable and frustrating and so goddamn irritating when he can’t see what’s right in front of his face, but hey, apparently Ryan’s into that.

He’s also into dishing out a little payback, and judging by the look on Shane’s face right now, Ryan’s been wildly successful.

“Something wrong, big guy?” he asks, after a few moments have passed and all Shane has done is gape at him, fingers still curled around his beers and mouth a little slack.

At the sound of his voice, Shane seems to snap out of his daze, his mouth shutting with a click and the beers hitting the counter with enough force to slosh over the rims. It’s a little hard to tell in the dim light of the bar, but Ryan could swear that Shane’s ears are turning pink, and oh.

_Oh_. 

“Why, Mr. Madej,” Ryan chortles, trying and failing to hide his amusement (and okay, a little smugness; he’s allowed). “What’s this? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shane mutters into the rim of his glass, carefully avoiding Ryan’s gaze.

Ryan fucking _beams_. Got ‘im.

“Now you know what it feels like, fucker,” he crows, swiping the other beer and taking a long, congratulatory sip.

“That is _not_ what I - “ Shane starts, twisting to look at Ryan, only to turn away and take another bracing gulp of his drink once he realizes Ryan’s still staring at him, his face as soft and open as Ryan can make it. “My face is perfectly normal when I look at you. What _you’re_ doing is – is just shameful, Ryan. We’re in public, for pete’s sake.”

Ryan opens his mouth, more than ready to call Shane out on his bullshit, but falters at the curve of Shane’s smile, visible beyond the rim of his glass.

“You asshole.” The insult comes out far more fond than it has any right to, laden with all the affection of a well-used pet name. At this point in their relationship, that’s basically what it is.

“But I’m your asshole,” Shane says, and winks. His eyes are practically fucking sparkling in the low light of the bar, and that look – that soft, open, loving look – is back on his face.

“And don’t you forget it, big guy,” Ryan returns, bracing his chin in the palm of his hand and giving Shane the same look right back. The pink flush that steals over Shane’s cheeks and along the tops of his ears thrills him, and he laughs softly, nudging his boot against Shane’s until their ankles touch and then, after a moment, cross.

He thinks he’s finally understanding the appeal of wearing his heart on his sleeve (or in his eyes, as the case may be), especially if it gets Shane to react like this. Ryan adds it to the list of things he’s allowed to do now, and reaches over to tug at Shane’s collar.

Better seal it with a kiss or two, just to make sure it sticks.


End file.
